


dumb decisions (we're pretty good at those)

by Stirfbot (certaintendencies)



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Come Eating, Felching, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Premature Ejaculation, Riding, Rimming, This is a LOVE story folks, mild armpit stuff, mild foot stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-17 11:16:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28848186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/certaintendencies/pseuds/Stirfbot
Summary: Foggy and Matt argue, make up, make out, and then have a goodly amount of unprotected sex.
Relationships: Matt Murdock/Franklin "Foggy" Nelson
Comments: 11
Kudos: 75





	dumb decisions (we're pretty good at those)

"I cannot believe you, Murdock," Foggy says, voice sharp and movements sharper as he rips the strap of his bag over his head and throws it towards the corner in disgust.

"Foggy…" Matt trails off miserably, following Foggy into his apartment but not actually defending himself in any way. 

It's because he can't. Because Foggy is right and they both know it. Matt better know it. Foggy turns around to stare at Matt suspiciously. He's certainly  _ going _ to know it.

Matt is standing there, mouth moving like he wants to say something, or screw it up into his dumb, stupid cry-face. 

"You cannot do that," Foggy tells him, about his idiotic martyr tendencies, and the secrets, and the making decisions for other people without consulting them, and even the cry-face. He is not allowed any of those things. He's in time out. "You can't, Matt."

Matt, who may understand he is not allowed to do the cry-face or may simply be very, very tired, takes his glasses off, flinging them unerringly atop Foggy's counter, and shoves the heels of his palms into his eye sockets, staving off a headache, or a cry, or a glare, maybe.

"I couldn't," he says, voice craggy. His hands fall down to his sides, revealing it was in fact a very stern look he was hiding. "It was dangerous, I couldn't let you take the case-"

"Dammit, that's not- That's not the issue. If you would have just told me, just  _ talked _ to me about it, we-"

"You would have kept it! And argued! And been in danger!"

"Maybe!" Foggy exclaims, hands and arms waving wildly. "We'll never know! You just… decided I didn't get a say in the matter." Foggy sighs, hands flopping down, mirroring Matt's defeated posture. "I just, I just need you to talk to me, man."

"I can't… talk to you about- about Daredevil. You…"

Matt looks, fuck, he looks so unhappy. Foggy hears himself let out a miserable little sound. "I what, Matt?"

"You h- _ hate _ Daredevil," Matt says, his voice small and wretched but absolutely certain, despite the hitch in his breathing. "I'm so tired of, of defending myself from, from my best friend-"

"God damn it, Matthew." Foggy closes the space between them and grips Matt's lapels. He takes in the frankly pathetic look on Matt's face for half a second and then slumps forward, thunking his forehead against Matt's collarbone. "You're so fucking dumb," Foggy laments towards the floorboards.

Matt doesn't say anything, just radiates suffering and brings his hands up, fingers loosely circling Foggy's wrists. 

Foggy doesn't even know where to start. Biggest thing first, maybe. He twists his clenched fingers further into Matt's lapels and shakes him a little, wobbling them both. He does not raise his head, preferring to continue to address the floorboards. He may not be as repressed as Matt is, but this is still a bit too much to just go saying straight to people's faces. "I love you," he declares. "You are my best friend, and I love you."

Matt is quiet, but his hands stiffen where they encircle Foggy's wrists. 

"You are also," Foggy says, voice tight, "Daredevil."

Matt makes a noise, some sort of pained, protesting whine, like this is somehow refutable.

"You have a tendency to do things," Foggy continues, eyes focusing past the line of Matt's shirt buttons, staring intently at the floor, "that endanger my best friend while dressed up as Daredevil, and so I get nervous when he's around. But I'm allowed."

Matt makes a little wet noise, like he's about to talk. Like he's about to talk some bullshit, probably, because he's hesitating. Foggy shakes him.

"Foggy…" Matt says and trails off, voice thick in his throat. Foggy sighs and straightens up, taking in the sight of him. 

"Dumb!" he diagnoses. Incurable. Tragic.

Matt's face is crumpled and raw and defiant. It's the worst. 

"I can hate the fact that you get beat to shit on the regular, and disregard your own safety, and keep stupid, unnecessary secrets. Hating that and hating Daredevil aren't the same thing." He takes a breath. "I'm sorry I never told you explicitly that I don't hate you."

Foggy watches Matt's eyelids flutter, pupils scanning. His breaths are coming out a little too fast, a little too hard. 

"I don't hate Daredevil. I love him. Because he's you."

Matt's breaths are coming more roughly now, uneven and hitching and hopefully very close to actually getting it. Foggy lets go of Matt's lapels and holds on instead to his stupid, red face. Matt does not let go of Foggy's wrists. "Because he's my idiot best friend."

"You didn't sign up for  _ any _ of this," Matt whispers harshly, holding tight to Foggy's wrists. "I just want to keep you safe."

"You're so fucking dramatic, Matthew," Foggy sighs in despair. "I did sign up for this. I'll keep signing up for this. You're my best friend  _ on purpose.  _ I have other options, you know. And," he shakes Matt's head, "I am fine with you keeping me safe. I'm actually a big fan of being safe, and you're pretty kick-ass, when you want to be. Why are you so dead set on doing things alone?"

"Because," Matt starts, and then swallows, one corner of his lips curling up tentatively. "I'm dumb."

_ "There _ it is," Foggy says, relieved at Matt's smile. He pulls him in for a hug, letting his face go to slap manfully at his back. "So,  _ so  _ dumb." His pats turn into a rubbing sort of thing, big sweeps of his hands across Matt's broad back.

"Mean," Matt murmurs into his shoulder, wrapping his arms around Foggy's middle, fingers securing purchase in the fabric at the small of Foggy's back.

"Only you would be dumb enough to be best friends with an asshole like me," Foggy agrees easily. He sways them, a little bit, from side to side. It's a fancy hug. All the bells and whistles. Matt sighs and rests his head on Foggy's shoulder, tucking his face into Foggy's neck.

He can feel it, over the edge of his collar, when Matt starts to smile. Oh no. Dread sinks through him, and he attempts to extricate himself from the embrace, but Matt, of course, does not let him go.

"You looove me," Matt wheedles, hooking his chin over Foggy's shoulder and tightening his hold.

"I did," Foggy allows, sighing deeply. "About three minutes ago." He readjusts his arms around Matt's shoulders and shrugs, "Now?" Matt ignores him and forcibly continues their gentle swaying.

"What did you mean when you said you had other options?" Matt asks after a moment of peaceful quiet.

Foggy snorts.

Matt makes a noise, a disgruntled sort of huff, and Foggy grins. "Plenty of people wanna get with this. I'm a hot commodity."

Matt finally lets go and leans back, frowning. His hands cup Foggy's elbows earnestly. "I'll fight them."

"Please don't."

Matt continues to pout suspiciously, and then he cocks his head, one side of his mouth quirked up. He slips a hand from Foggy's elbow, splaying it out over the front of Foggy's shirt just in time for his stomach to growl loudly.

Foggy, trying very hard not to suck his stomach in, sighs. Matt grins at him and pats his belly.

"Handsy," Foggy says, and then swats Matt's hand away when he starts little circular rubbing motions. 

Matt laughs and dances out of reach. "Why 

don't you take a shower and I'll go get us dinner."

Foggy squints, vaguely offended but definitely hungry. "Did you just hug me and then imply that I smell?"

"Ah, well." Matt grins. "I could smell you way before the hug."

"Rude!"

"Not," Matt laughs, hands up, placating. "Not- not, you just…" His smile fades, "You were scared, earlier. Sweating."

Foggy sucks in a breath, hit with a memory of that morning, when he was certain Matt was dead or dying or about to get exposed as Daredevil. 

"You're mad at me again, aren't you?"

"Oh, you can smell that, too?" Foggy glares at Matt, who is a few feet away and wary looking, up on the balls of his feet. Like he's about to start bobbing and weaving or… or running away. Huffing out a breath through his nose, Foggy strips his jacket off, tossing it over a chair, and then starts on his tie. "I'm taking a shower. You owe me something delicious."

Matt's smile is heartbreakingly relieved. "Sure thing, Fogs." He grabs his glasses, sliding them on. "I won't let you down."

Foggy's eye twitches at that, and he turns away, as though that would hide his expression from Matt. "I won't let you down," he parrots under his breath as he heads to the bathroom, voice round and silly, head wobbling as he says it. Matt's breathy giggle is cut off by the closing of the apartment door behind him.

Foggy turns the shower on and strips the rest of his clothes off while he waits for it to warm up. He faces the mirror, frowning at himself, and sniffs at his balled up shirt. Kinda sour. Probably not great for super-sniffer hugs. Sighing, Foggy tosses it in the hamper and shoves the curtain aside with a screech of rings against the curtain rod. He steps into the billowing steam, hissing when the hot water hits his skin.

He takes his time, uses a rough washcloth and way too much shower gel. He rubs grimly at the spot where Matt's mouth had been tucked into his neck until the skin there is tender and red, and then he scrubs everywhere else just as determinedly. Take that, sweat glands.

Foggy is staring at his blotchy reflection in a swiped-clean section of his mirror, towel tucked around his waist, when Matt comes back. 

"I got empanadas from that place that does the giant to-go drinks," Matt calls out, and Foggy can hear a bag being set down on the counter, and the promising slosh of what he assumes is- he opens the bathroom door, stepping out with a rolling wave of dissipating steam- yes, a veritable bucket full of margarita. 

Matt turns towards him, a hopeful smile on his face as he punches a straw through the lid. "Acceptable?"

"You only got one," Foggy points out. He meanders over to the counter and pokes through the bag, the smell of fried deliciousness wafting up freely. 

"I figured we could share," Matt says, offering the enormous cup up to Foggy. He smiles again, and angles his face towards Foggy's chest, nostrils flaring almost imperceptibly. 

"How do your super-senses handle backwash?" Foggy asks, curious, as he takes the drink.

Matt shrugs, turning towards the counter, shuffling closer to Foggy and digging out the containers from the bag. "It's just spit."

"Hot," Foggy deadpans, taking a noisy, slurping taste of the citrusy drink. 

"Depends on the spit," Matt informs him, still turned toward the counter, the side of his face revealing half of a smirk.

"Well," Foggy says, handing the margarita back. "Suck on that for a second. I'm gonna go put some clothes on."

"If you must," Matt shoots back, turning and leaning a hip against the counter. His cheeks hollow as he takes a drink.

Foggy doesn't really know what to make of that, so he bravely ignores it and retreats to his bedroom.

He puts on a pair of soft gray sweats and tugs a t-shirt over his head, yanking it down and smoothing it over his stomach, contemplative. 

"Hey Matt," Foggy calls as he exits his bedroom. Matt is arranging the takeout containers on the coffee table, facing away from him.

"Hm?"

"Can you, like,  _ hear _ people being naked under their clothes?"

Matt coughs and straightens up, eyebrows halfway up his forehead. "Excuse you?"

"Are you just listening to people's junk rustling around in their underwear, like, all the time?"

"That's- I'm…"

Foggy steps farther into the room, pausing immediately when Matt lets out a choked little sound and he turns to fully face Foggy.

"Only if I really focus and-" 

Foggy holds his breath.

Matt smirks, a slow, shit-eating progression of a smile, and lowers his voice. "Only when they're actually wearing underwear."

Abort mission. "Yeah, nope, that's-"

"You brought it up!" Matt cuts him off. "It takes a lot of focus just to find that particular..." he waves one hand, the other perching grumpily on his hip. "And even more to analyze what the stupid sounds mean. If I'm that interested in someone's downstairs area it's much more efficient just to ask permission to, you know." He gives a little ta-da hand motion, complete with spirit fingers, and turns away, shuffling sideways between the coffee table and the couch until he plops down on the far cushion.

"Can't believe you're dropping eaves on my free balls," Foggy mutters.

"I can hear your heartbeat and you're worried about how many layers of clothes you've got on?"

"Can you hear my indigestion?" Foggy asks, forcing himself to walk over to the couch, wondering absently what other parts of him Matt could spy on.

"Only when you've got it," Matt counters, and hands over the margarita. 

"You've given me an ulcer; I've always got indigestion."

"Lie."

Foggy puts the radio on, a local station with neighborhood news interspersed with comfortably familiar songs that don't require active listening for enjoyment. Every once in a while he is hit anew with the implications of Matt's senses and is achingly conscious of the noise of his chewing. But Matt doesn't make any indication that Foggy's mouth sounds are bothering him, just gets into custody disputes over the margarita and shoulders him out of the way when he goes for the last chicken empanada, grinning as he bites into it.

Foggy takes a pull from the straw, slurping mostly air and then jabbing the straw down at different points in the ice to suck up any remaining pockets of alcohol. He studies Matt's face as he does, the way his hair flops over his forehead and the way his eyes crinkle and the way he gets a smudge of food on his lower lip and his tongue swipes out to get it. 

Matt angles his face towards Foggy and raises an eyebrow. "What are you thinking about?"

"Why?" Foggy asks, wondering what his body is telling Matt.

Matt just shrugs.

"Hmm," Foggy says, as unhelpful as possible. "What are  _ you _ thinkin' about?"

"Guess," Matt replies, equally as unaccommodating.

Foggy looks at Matt's face for a moment, and wonders how fast or slow his heart might be beating, and what it means to Matt. He sniffs, takes one last fruitless pull from the margarita straw, and leans over, pressing his ear to Matt's chest.

"Wha-"

"Shhh!" Foggy shushes him, plonking the cup down on the coffee table and closing his eyes, focusing on the thump of Matt's heart. "I'm gathering clues. Evening the playing field."

"Oh," Matt says, as though this is reasonable, and leans back. One hand comes down, resting lightly between Foggy's shoulder blades, and Foggy thinks Matt's fingers might be twitching, but he's too busy listening to the  _ lub-dub _ sound of Matt's heart to really pay attention. 

It might be a little faster than Foggy was expecting. It's not racing or anything, but it's not really at what Foggy thinks of as a resting rate. Maybe it's the alcohol. Maybe Matt's heart just runs fast; Foggy's never listened to it before.

He hears something else, a faint gurgling sort of whoosh, and he grins, sliding his ear down a little to follow it.

"Uh," says Matt, eloquently. 

"Sorry," Foggy laughs, "hang on, let me-" he sits back up and then turns around on the cushion, dropping his head backwards into Matt's lap and pressing his ear to Matt's warm stomach.

Matt's insides are actually cacophonous, Foggy finds. A whole system of sloshes and burbles and murmurs, irregular and busy.

"You can hear this in people," Foggy squints up at Matt, "Just- all the fucking time?"

"I mean," Matt says, head rolling and shoulders shifting in a shrug. "It's, uh, yeah. I guess." His voice is deep, more grumbly now that Foggy can feel it where it starts.

"Huh," Foggy says, and pushes the side of his face more fully into Matt's stomach. A button on his shirt is a hard little disc pressing into Foggy's ear. Something fizzes, a muffled, sparkling sort of sound. Foggy grins.

"You gonna stay down there?" Matt asks, the words rumbling down through Foggy until the sensation echoes in his chest.

"Fair's fair," Foggy states.

"Hm," Matt replies, and his thigh shifts under Foggy's head but he doesn't dump him out of his lap like he could, just sets his arm down across Foggy's chest, two fingertips resting on Foggy's face, one on his chin and one at the very corner of his mouth.

Foggy hums back at him, settling down, eyes tracing cracks in the ceiling as the radio plays and Matt's insides continue to churn out new and fascinating sounds.

"What am I thinking, do you think?" Matt asks after a little while of Foggy zoning out to the radio and Matt's gushy innards.

"I don't have any idea," Foggy tells him honestly. "What am  _ I _ thinking?"

"This is," Matt says, and Foggy can feel the nervous way he sucks in a breath before continuing. "The uh, the song you were listening to when we met."

Foggy blinks and actually listens to what's playing on the radio, laughing when it hits him. "Yeah it is."

Matt's fingers dance around Foggy's smile, one thumb tracing the curved line from his nose to the corner of his mouth. "But that's not what you were thinking of."

Foggy wasn't thinking about much of anything, but now the way Matt's touching his face is kind of making him wonder. "What are  _ you _ thinking?"

Matt breathes out, the sound lengthy and muffled against Foggy's ear. "You uh, you weren't smiling last time we did this."

"Aw man," Foggy says, feeling Matt's fingertips brush against his dimple. "This whole time you never knew about my devastating smile?"

Grinning, Matt tilts his head down, angling it towards Foggy. "No, I knew."

"Ah," Foggy nods, Matt's slacks crinkle against the back of his head. "You… smelled it."

Matt throws his head back, grinning at the ceiling, and Foggy watches his throat work. "No, I could- the uh, the barista, when we went for coffee that first day. You smiled at her and her pulse picked up."

Well.

Matt drops his chin back down, letting Foggy see the soft look on his face. "Happens all the time."

_ Well. _

"You're telling me you've known this whole time that I was irresistible and you just ignored it?"

"Irresistible?" Matt echoes, eyebrows migrating upwards.

"Rude," Foggy informs him.

"Aw." Matt cocks his head, pushing his fingers through Foggy's damp hair, petting it back from his face. "Don't worry. You're real pretty, Fogs."

"Hah. If that were true," Foggy says, and then stops, because he let his mouth get away from him there for a second, and thinking things doesn't mean they need to be said. He looks up at Matt's expectant face and presses his ear back into Matt's stomach to have something to do. 

"What," Matt says, and his fingers drag delicately down Foggy's forehead, over to the lines by his eyes. "If that were true, what?" 

Maybe it's the way he can feel Matt's voice reverberating through him, or the discreet way Matt's tongue comes out to wet his bottom lip. Or maybe it's just that Foggy is kind of ready, in general, to stop ignoring certain things. "Well," Foggy swallows, shrugging as he peers up at Matt. "You'd be doing what you always do when faced with a lapful of pretty person."

"Oh," Matt nods, and his fingers move from Foggy's eyes to the corner of his mouth once more. He licks his lips again, slower this time. "And what's that?"

"Making really dumb decisions, obviously."

The faint, shallow movement of Matt's chest as he breathes pauses, and Matt's fingers move to curl around Foggy's chin. "I thought you'd never ask," he says, calm and quiet. 

"I didn't ask," Foggy points out. 

Matt smiles, "So I was right."

Foggy groans, closing his eyes to shut out Matt's stupid, ernest face. "Ugh, you're the  _ worst." _

Fingers slide under his head, cupping the back of his skull and lifting him up slightly, away from Matt's thigh. Matt's other hand cradles his jaw.

Foggy keeps his eyes closed as Matt kisses him. Soft, achingly familiar lips press delicately against his, so careful and sweet Foggy is afraid to exhale.

And then Matt groans, just a little, a small, fragile sound, like he can't quite reach something he really wants.

"Fuck," Foggy whispers, and scrabbles at the back of the couch. He pulls himself up, pushing Matt along with him with forceful little kisses, until he's sitting, twisted, on the cushion and able to reach back and pull Matt in as close as he wants him.

Almost as close as he wants him.

Groaning when Foggy draws him in, Matt tightens his hold on Foggy's head and crushes their mouths together. He licks and bites until Foggy opens for him and then spills his pleasure into Foggy's mouth, a whine that Foggy swallows, eats up with a helpless laugh and a push to get even closer.

"Let me, let me," Foggy murmurs, stupid and messy as he squirms, trying to get closer without letting go.

"Mmm," Matt says, an agreement, probably, and tugs at him. He pushes a kiss into the corner of his mouth and then nudges their faces together, breathing harshly as Foggy twists and shifts and finally slings a leg over Matt's thighs. Hitching in close to him to line their mouths up, Foggy settles in Matt's lap and shivers at the feel of him, hot and solid, under him and between his legs and pulling restlessly at his hair.

Matt groans like the sound is wrenched out of him, fingers flexing in Foggy's hair, legs stiff under Foggy's weight as he arches off the couch.

Riding out the movement of Matt's hips, Foggy follows the tug of Matt's fingers in his hair, baring his throat. Matt nudges his face into Foggy's neck, mouthing at the same spot he'd smiled into earlier, a million years ago. He growls. Foggy laughs and grabs the back of Matt's head, holding him close.

_ "You," _ Matt accuses, voice grumbling, vibrating into Foggy's throat, lips and teeth and stubble scraping wetly. "You scrubbed me off your skin."

"You literally told me to take a shower," Foggy points out, gasping shortly thereafter when Matt drops his hands down to clutch at his hips, holding him down as he rocks up beneath him. "Wow, wow," Foggy laughs breathlessly, stretching his thighs wider across Matt's lap, squirming when Matt's fingers curl under the waistband of his sweats. "We're just, straight to the thrusting, huh?"

"Sorry," Matt pants, and his hips go still as he kisses his way back to Foggy's lips. His hands change direction, sliding up under Foggy's shirt to press and rub at the skin of his sides and his back. "Sorry." 

"Don't, fuck, don't be sorry." Foggy slings his arms around Matt's neck and rocks close. "I am so here for the thrusting." 

Matt's fingers fit into the creases of skin at Foggy's waist and stroke there, and Foggy squirms. Matt laughs at him, which makes Foggy laugh and jerk against Matt, who stretches up and holds him tight, arms locked around him as he grins into a kiss.

"Hey," Foggy says, relaxing into Matt's hold.

"Hmm?" Matt politely cocks his head to indicate he's listening but does not stop nipping and kissing his way from Foggy's lips to his throat, the same spot as before.

"What, uh- heh," Foggy breaks off, shivering as Matt sets his teeth against skin and sucks. "What um, that's- You know I have court next week."

"Collar," Matt murmurs helpfully, and then scrapes his teeth over the skin and gives it one last kiss. "Scrub  _ that _ off," he says, triumphant, and then straightens up, hands stroking the skin of Foggy's back where they're still trapped under his t-shirt. "What what?"

"What? Oh, ah, I was just… What's this gonna be? Like," Foggy shrugs, "Later. If it is gonna be later." Foggy frowns.  _ "Is _ it gonna be, uh, later?"

Matt frowns too, and he leans back into the couch a little, though his hands stay, palms and fingers warm against Foggy's skin. "If you- Do you  _ want _ it to be, uh, later?"

Foggy curses his stupid heart, because he knows it's doing things and he knows Matt's listening to them and he's thinking things about it. But then he feels Matt's hands, still for the first time since they worked under his shirt, holding him tensely. Like maybe he's worried. 

"Well if  _ now _ is any indication, then yeah, a later of this would be… Good. Not just a, a one-time dumb decision."

"An ongoing dumb decision," Matt says with a smile, and his hands start moving again.

"You're so good at those," Foggy agrees. 

"You know what else I'm good at?" Matt asks, and rolls his hips up.

"Very excited to find out," Foggy admits breathlessly.

Matt kisses him again, and then tugs Foggy's shirt up and off, tossing it behind him with a flourish that makes Foggy snort. Bending close, hot breath puffing over Foggy's chest, Matt tips his head to the side, one eyebrow up. "Can I?"

"Yep," Foggy says immediately, possibly too quickly to sound in any way cool, which is too bad but not surprising in the least. Matt kisses Foggy's nipple, scrapes his teeth over it and licks at it until Foggy's hissing and wriggling in Matt's lap, and then he starts sucking it and thumbing at the other one. Foggy lets out a whine and his hips jerk forward, shoving his half-hard dick against Matt's stomach. This is understandable, in Foggy's opinion, but it leads to Matt's whole body going rigid against and underneath him. Matt stills for a beat, and Foggy holds his breath, and then Matt's hands are under him, scooping him out of Matt's lap. 

He yelps and gets deposited bodily onto the cushions, and his heart has decided to stage an escape attempt, because Matt is saying, "Off, off- Foggy," and Foggy is wondering if there was something his nipples could have possibly done to ruin the mood. Before his soul can actually leave his body, however, Matt is leaning over him, one hand working eagerly at the button on his slacks and the other tugging at the elastic waist of Foggy's sweats.  _ "Off," _ he demands again, and Foggy lets his head fall back against the arm of the couch, a slightly hysterical giggle escaping him.

"Fucking cave man," Foggy accuses, even as he lifts his hips from the couch for Matt to jerk his sweats down to his thighs. "I thought you were having some sort of big gay freak out." He moves to help with Matt's fly, as Matt himself has abandoned it in favor of the top few buttons of his shirt.  _ Too _ few buttons as it turns out, because when he tries to pull it up and off it gets stuck on his stupid big head and Foggy has to sit up and help yank it off.

"You're so lucky you're hot, Matthew," he starts to say, but then Matt's flushed face and wild hair appear from under the shirt. Combined with his ridiculous, heaving chest and his undone slacks, it causes Foggy to have a caveman moment of his own. He lets out a grunt and surges close. Kissing him with too much teeth, Foggy shoves at his pants and his underwear, pushing them down to his thighs. He falls back, hands kneading Matt's ass while Matt cups his skull and keeps them from landing too hard, and then they're pressed together from chest to thigh, skin against skin, for the first time.

Foggy groans, and he would be embarrassed at the desperation in it, but Matt groans louder. 

"Fuh-fuck," Matt huffs into Foggy's shoulder, voice shivery and hot. He holds himself still, except for his hands, petting his fingers through the hair at the nape of Foggy's neck. Foggy can feel it when his dick, pressed snug against the top of Foggy's thigh, pulses and grows harder.

"Oh," Foggy says stupidly, and traces his fingertips along the creases where Matt's ass meets his thighs. 

"Yeah," Matt agrees, and turns to kiss Foggy's chin. 

Foggy exhales carefully, arching his back in a slow, deliberate thrust, pushing his hardness against the taut, muscled stretch of Matt's lower abdomen. Matt rides the motion out, tucking his face into Foggy's neck and pressing back against him. 

"Hey Fogs?"

"Yeah buddy," Foggy whispers, fingers flexing around handfuls of Matt's perfect ass. 

Leaning up, showing Foggy the hopeful look on his face, Matt opens his mouth to ask a question. 

"Yep," Foggy decides, letting go of Matt's ass with one hand to cup his flushed cheek, which is somehow even more precious to him. "Anything."

Matt smiles at him. "Bedroom?"

Oh. 

Hell yeah.

Matt gets to his knees above Foggy and Foggy wriggles out from underneath him, movement hampered by the sweats tangled around his thighs. They stand and shuck off their pants, Matt laughing at him when Foggy gets a little handsy with his assistance. And then they're leaning into each other, and kissing, and Foggy takes Matt by the hand and leads them to the bedroom. 

Matt pulls him up short when they reach the bed, spins him and kisses him and then nuzzles in close.

"On your knees," Matt breathes, lips brushing Foggy's ear, hands flattening against Foggy's chest and shoving, just a little.

Foggy shivers, legs bending, one knee hitting the rug with a thump before Matt gives a strangled little laugh, tugging at his shoulders.

"No, not-" he grabs at Foggy, pulling him back up. "On the bed," Matt huffs, grinning and spinning him around, shoving at him again until he stumbles into the mattress, blushing. 

"Hey man, don't judge," Foggy grouses, clambering onto the bed. "I was half a second from saying 'yes sir' and sucking you off. You had a vibe."

Matt snorts and follows Foggy, knees sliding against the covers as he crawls up after him. "Next time," he says, lips parted in an anticipatory smile. 

He then proceeds to man-handle Foggy, herding him up close to the headboard and then pulling him around to face the foot of the bed. Foggy laughs, holding onto Matt's shoulder as he shuffles around on his knees. "Okay?"

"Perfect," Matt assures him, and sways forward, glancing a kiss off Foggy's cheekbone and then scrabbling a foot or so away.

Foggy takes the opportunity to soak Matt in. The play of scarred skin over muscle and bone, the goofy smile, the way his cock swings, fat and hard between his thighs. 

"Spread your knees," Matt says, still smiling.

Foggy's dick twitches. "Yes, Sir," he breathes, and walks his knees apart.

Matt grins at him, brilliant and sweet, and spins around to flop onto his back, his head centered between the dips Foggy's knees make in the mattress.

Blinking, Foggy stares down at him.

Matt tilts his head up, the stubbled outline of his jaw and the bow of his upper lip stunning in their definition. His tongue slips out to wet his lower lip. "You said- an- anything, right?"

"I did," Foggy agrees, and doesn't stop himself from combing his fingers through Matt's hair, brushing his bangs back from his forehead. 

"'Kay," Matt sighs, letting Foggy pet his hair back. "Okay." He reaches up, hand patting the air until it lands on Foggy's thigh, warm and solid. "Hmm," he says, face thoughtful for a moment, before he nods to himself and starts wriggling up the bed. "S'cuse me." 

He shoves his way up, worming one shoulder under Foggy's leg, almost unbalancing him. "What're you-"

"No, it's- here," Matt grabs Foggy's left leg. "Tuck it under-" 

"Matt!" Foggy laughs, curling his calf under Matt's shoulder, climbing over his- over his- "What are-"

"You said anything," Matt reminds him, and Foggy would probably smile at the obstinate tone, except the breath of Matt's words definitely just puffed over Foggy's balls, and Matt is definitely trying to maneuver Foggy in such a way that he- that he'll be… sitting on Matt. On Matt's face.

Foggy whimpers. 

Matt does not acknowledge Foggy's whimper. "Other leg," he says, patting at Foggy's right hip, trying to shove his shoulder up past Foggy's suddenly wobbly knee. 

"Um," Foggy swallows.

Matt's left arm, the upper part of which is sandwiched warmly between Foggy's calf and his thigh, comes up to pat at Foggy's chest, at his stomach, smoothing over to grab at his waist. "Other leg, Fog," Matt says softly, excitement and fondness in his voice, warmth in the breath that ghosts across Foggy's  _ asshole _ , holy  _ fuck _ .

"Other leg," Foggy says, voice small and eyes trained on Matt's dick, which is rock hard and curved up over Matt's stomach, bobbing with every squirm as Matt wiggles a little higher up the bed. He lifts his leg over Matt's shoulder, slides his shin against the mattress, hooking over Matt's arm as Matt settles in with a happy-sounding hum.

"Matt," Foggy entreats weakly, watching his own cock nestle in the stupidly defined cleft between Matt's pecs. 

"Don't, uh," Matt tells him, hands cupping Foggy's ass comfortably. "Don't touch yourself. Your dick." He kneads the cheeks of Foggy's ass, spreading them apart, and Foggy's going to  _ die. _ "Or mine," he adds, seemingly as an afterthought, his stubbled chin whispering across extremely sensitive skin. "I'll come, ah, way too fast. Okay, come down," he stretches up to rub his cheek, rough and sweet, against Foggy, nosing briefly his crack, before thumping his head audibly back into the mattress. "Down onto me, come on. Relax."

"Oh, sure," Foggy says to the room at large, thighs trembling, heart hammering, hands curling around Matt's ribs. "Of course. Relax, says the guy that tastes days-old meals on my breath, smells my thoughts, and has decided to eat my ass without giving me time to ment- Fuck!"

Matt sucks a kiss directly against Foggy's hole, and lets go of one of his asscheeks to give it a little slap. 

" _ Jesus _ ," Foggy hisses, hitching forward, hands clenching tight around Matt's ribcage. 

"I love this," Matt murmurs, mouth and stubble brushing hot against Foggy. He reaches up and around, rubbing restlessly at Foggy's stomach, at his chest, digging his fingers into Foggy's flesh and groaning appreciatively. "I want this, Foggy, please." He licks up from behind Foggy's balls, murmurs the words into Foggy's skin, "Please let me. Please."

"Yeah," Foggy breathes, stomach tightening as Matt licks at him. Foggy settles, lets Matt touch him, grips his ribs tight and watches as Matt's cock twitches, a pearl of liquid welling at the tip as Foggy clenches against his tongue. "Fuck, fuck okay."

Matt really does seem to want it. He buries his mouth in close, lips slick, cheeks and chin prickling against secret, sensitive skin. Every time Foggy's ass clenches against Matt's tongue, Matt's cock jerks and dribbles, a steady strand of precum trailing down into a pool on his belly. 

Foggy rides him, rides Matt's face, arches his back and lets Matt eat him out, shoves his cock against Matt's chest and shivers around the tongue curling into his ass.

Matt pulls back, panting hot against the soaked skin of Foggy's ass, and spits onto Foggy's clenching hole. Foggy yelps when Matt shoves back in close to press the wet inside him with his  _ teeth. _

"Matt!" Foggy cries, hips shuddering, grinding down. Matt groans into him, fucks up, his back arching, cock pulsing visibly as the little puddle of precum beneath it spills and drips into his navel. Foggy moans at the sight, reaching out his fingers to swipe through the mess, and then he's falling, tipped over by Matt, who bucks under him and grabs him by the waist, tumbling him to the bed and scrambling over him. He straddles Foggy's thigh and looms, breathing hard.

Foggy blinks up at Matt, who is red-faced and wild-haired above him, mouth and cheeks shiny, breath panting out with each labored exhale. 

"Can I kiss you?" Matt asks, eyes sweeping aimlessly. His hands pat and rub over Foggy's chest, his neck, fingers mapping his chin, tilting his head.

Foggy laughs, reaches up to wipe some spit off Matt's face, and then pulls him down. 

Matt kisses him, urgent but gentle. His mouth is closed against Foggy's smile, fingers petting at Foggy's cheek and down his jaw, resting against his throat.

"C'mon Matthew," Foggy says, words murmured against Matt's lips. "You can do better than tha-Nng...Mmm-"

Matt licks into Foggy's mouth, nips at his tongue and sucks at his lower lip, restless and urgent, his fingers wrapping tighter around Foggy's throat.

"More like it," Foggy breathes when Matt finally leans back. Matt's hand flexes against his throat, before pulling away, drawing a bereft grumble from Foggy.

"Can I…" Matt trails off, strokes his fingers over Foggy's lips and dips past them, pulling in a sharp breath through his teeth when Foggy sucks at them. 

"Mm," Foggy mumbles around Matt's fingertips, kissing them when they're pulled away. "Yeah. What?"

"I want," Matt starts, and then sucks at his own thumb, spit trailing between the pad of his thumb and his lower lip when he draws it away. Foggy gasps and arches when Matt drops it low, works his hand down and pushes his wet thumb up against Foggy's hole. "Inside you, I want inside you, Fog, I want- so much."

"Yeah, fuck yeah," Foggy sighs, bending the leg Matt isn't straddling, splaying his thighs as far as he can, making room. "You gonna fuck me?" Foggy asks, entranced by the flush on Matt's cheeks. His chest heaves as he works to breathe, and his cock is heavy and thick against Foggy's upper thigh, still drooling steadily into the crease below Foggy's belly.

Matt's jaw drops, a smile like he can't quite believe it taking over his parted lips as he presses in, hooks his thumb inside Foggy's sensitive, spit slick hole. Foggy moans and writhes against him, pinned to the bed by Matt's weight across his thigh. "Yeah," Matt whispers it like a secret. "Yeah, I think I am."

Foggy swallows and hitches his hips up, rubbing his thigh up between Matt's. Matt rolls with the movement, rides it out and then swings a leg over, knees between Foggy's splayed thighs, nudging into the backs of them. His thumb is still pressed into Foggy, the fingers of that hand pushing over a corded tendon in Foggy's groin. He uses his other hand to grab Foggy's ankle, drawing his leg up to rest against Matt's shoulder, exposing Foggy further. 

"Oh god," Foggy groans, watching in horror as Matt sucks on his big toe.

Teeth scrape as Matt draws back. "What?" he murmurs, and his thumb is- his thumb is rocking into Foggy, pressing and curling and  _ doing _ things and Foggy is  _ feeling _ things, but Matt's  _ mouth- _ Foggy whines.

"You're a  _ feet _ guy!" Foggy cries, accusatory and breathless, his cock twitching against his belly.

Matt sets his teeth into the meat of Foggy's big toe and then just sort of sniggers at him, curling his fingers around Foggy's ankle to stop him from kicking reflexively. 

Letting out an involuntary and strangled-sounding noise, Foggy flops back to the mattress, closing his eyes. The universe is cruel. Matt turns his wrist and hooks his thumb up inside of Foggy, scratching his nails down the skin right next to Foggy's balls and Foggy arches up like it's electric, gasps and moans as his cock pulses on his belly. 

He reaches towards it, desperate, and lets out a whine when Matt lets go of his ankle and bats at his hand, shooing it away like a pest. "Uh uh," he says, and rocks forward, brushing his cock against the back of Foggy's thigh.

"Feet guy!" Foggy denounces him, glaring as his fingers twist in the bed covers, and Matt laughs at him again.

"I'm not-" Matt huffs out a laugh, and it's cool against Foggy's spit-wet toe. "I'm not a  _ feet _ guy."

"You're such a feet guy," Foggy argues, tendons shifting as Matt grabs his foot, "You're such a-"

Matt licks into the arch and then nuzzles up, the sensation cutting Foggy off better than any rebuttal would. He anchors Foggy's twitching foot with strong, warm fingers, holding it in place. "Does it feel good?" he asks, smug and sly like he already knows the answer, and then tongues at the tender skin between Foggy's toes.

"Nghh," Foggy replies coherently, shivering sparks of sensation zipping through his foot, straight to his traitorous cock, which jumps and continues to leak onto his belly.

"I'm a feel good guy," Matt says softly, the curled-up corner of his smile pressing softly against the ball of Foggy's foot. "Not a feet guy."

He looks so good, so unbearably soft and good, face half-hidden behind Foggy's dumb, sexy foot, that Foggy feels a pang in his chest.

"Oh no," Foggy breathes, a horrifying revelation overcoming him as he curls his toes against Matt's cheekbone.  _ "I'm _ a feet guy!"

Matt throws his head back and cackles, making Foggy's heart-area pang-type feelings somehow even worse. 

And then, Foggy's heart stops completely, any pangs forgotten, because Matt kisses the sole of his foot, leans against it, and sighs out, as soft and sweet as Foggy can imagine, "I love you."

Foggy's breath catches, suspended in time just like the beat of his heart for one long moment, before the world starts again, heart working overtime to catch up.

Matt's eyebrows furrow, and he squeezes Foggy's ankle. "Foggy?"

"Sorry," Foggy swallows, blinking quickly. "I just… wasn't expecting that."

Matt doesn't move for a beat, and Foggy can't either, feeling stuck in place and very, very naked.

"You weren't expecting me... to love you?" Matt asks, voice quiet in the space between them.

"Um, well I sure as hell wasn't expecting you to  _ say _ it." Foggy pushes up onto his elbows, "I mean, I professed my love to you multiple times earlier tonight and couldn't even get a 'me, too.' All I got was you telling me to take a shower." Foggy watches Matt frown prettily, and continues before he can open his mouth. "Also, I gotta say, this is a hell of a conversation to have with your thumb up my ass, for the record."

Matt's mouth tightens briefly, and Foggy braces himself, but then Matt snorts, and it turns into a giggle, and then he twists his hand and the thumb in question curls up, inside Foggy, and shocks him stupid.

Foggy lets out a groan, arching involuntarily, and then cries out when Matt withdraws his thumb. The rest of his breath gets knocked out of him when Matt flops down on top of him.

"I love you," Matt whispers, body warm and heavy, and kisses him sweetly on the cheek. Foggy turns into it, brushes their noses together. "I love you," Matt whispers, and lays his cheek on Foggy's. Foggy nuzzles into him, stubble catching, and Matt's eyelashes flutter against his cheekbone. "I love you," Matt whispers, breath hot in Foggy's ear.

Foggy smiles, feeling liquid soft and tender, caught beneath Matt's solid, comforting weight. He sweeps his hands up Matt's back, arches against him, and sighs. "You're so embarrassing, honestly. Get ahold of yourself."

He can feel it in his chest when Matt laughs, and lower when Matt worms a hand between them, fisting his own cock.

Foggy groans and rolls his eyes, and Matt sets his teeth into Foggy's earlobe and tugs playfully. 

"You're the worst," Foggy declares, and rocks up into him.

"You love it," Matt says, intensely smug. He drags his lips from Foggy's ear to his mouth, smearing a kiss the entire way. He seals their lips together, head tilted and tongue probing deeply, obscenely, fucking Foggy's mouth as he thrusts languidly down against him.

Foggy doesn't care to deny it, just kisses back and bucks up underneath him, tipping them over and shoving Matt onto his back. He climbs on top of him, straddling his hips, hands splayed out over Matt's stomach. He stays there a while, just taking in the sight of him. Matt seems content to let him, hands coming to Foggy's hips and resting there, squeezing occasionally, just breathing as their cocks rest together on his belly. Foggy commits the look on Matt's face to memory, gratified and hopeful, bottom lip sliding out from between his teeth, eyes unfocused and hair a delightful mess.

Foggy leans over Matt toward the bedside table before he says something sappy, tugging the drawer open and fumbling around for the lube.

"Whatcha got there?" Matt asks, once Foggy straightens up.

"The good stuff," Foggy grins, flicking the cap open. "The kind that tingles." Foggy bites his lip and lets the horrified look settle fully across Matt's features before he laughs and swats his chest. "C'mon, man, I wouldn't do that to you."

Matt sighs and scrubs his hands up Foggy's thighs, pinching him. "Jerk."

Just for that, Foggy scoots back and squeezes some of the cold lube out over Matt's dick, resulting in a yelp and a flail, which Foggy dodges with a laugh. Foggy smooths his hand over Matt's cock, slicking it up, and this seems to mollify Matt, judging by his satisfied groan. Once Matt is thoroughly slippery, cock hard and twitching, Foggy shifts back up his body, settling on the hot, slick length of him.

Matt lets out a choked-off groan, and Foggy gives a tentative roll of his hips. He's never ridden anyone before, always been vaguely worried that he didn't quite have the body for it, that he might look silly, but that isn't an issue, currently. The feel of Matt's dick, searingly hot and insistant along the crack of his ass, along with the dumbfounded look on Matt's beautiful face, spurs Foggy on. He braces himself, hands splayed across Matt's chest, and works his hips, lets his spine go loose as he grinds against Matt's cock. He watches, rapt, the look on Matt's face as he moves, shattered and open, eyes wide and lips parted as he huffs out heavy, short breaths. 

"You gonna fuck me, Matty?" Foggy asks, grinning when Matt tenses under him and groans. He curls his fingers, scratching lightly over Matt's nipples, "You want me to ride you like this?"

"God, Fogs," Matt grits out, fingers digging in tight at Foggy's waist. "Please, ple-" 

Foggy leans in, grinds his cock against Matt's abs, scrabbles across the covers for the lube and presses it into Matt's hand as he finds his mouth for a kiss. "Get me ready. Get me ready for you," Foggy breathes. Matt whines into his mouth, grips the bottle and bares his teeth against Foggy's lips.

"Up, off, off," Matt urges, but his hips follow Foggy's ass when he straightens up on his knees, and Matt grunts and fucks up against him once, twice, before shuddering back down against the mattress. "Fuck," he breathes, neck straining, and Foggy wipes a thumb across his cheekbone. 

"You okay?"

"I'm gonna be really embarrassed in a little while,' Matt admits through gritted teeth, but it doesn't stop him from curling a hand under Foggy's ass, fingers exploring. He grunts and sits up, abs flexing as he does so without any seeming effort. Foggy shifts back a little, allowing Matt all the way up, and holds onto his shoulders when Matt slicks his fingers up and presses two into him without delay. 

Foggy groans, and Matt bites at his chest, keeps his teeth set into Foggy's flesh as he works his fingers in and out of him, stretching and curling and twisting. Matt's breath huffs out against Foggy's spit-wet skin, and his fingers work restlessly inside him. Foggy holds on and tries to breathe, moaning when Matt rubs the right spots inside him. "God, any day now, huh?"

"Shut up," Matt groans, kissing at the marks he's bitten into Foggy's chest. He slips another finger in, curls them all and presses the tips against the rim of Foggy's hole, exploratory and careful. His other arm wraps tightly around Foggy's waist, drawing him close, and he turns until his ear is snug against Foggy's chest, over his pounding heart. Foggy twists his fingers into Matt's hair and holds him close, breathing hard as Matt works him open. 

"Please," Foggy whispers. "Please, I wanna feel you. I want-"

Matt groans again, and lifts his head away from Foggy's chest, tilting it up, lips parted. Foggy kisses him, holds his jaw and licks into his mouth, swallowing the desperate sounds he makes when he pulls his fingers out and rubs the head of his dick against Foggy's hole. 

Foggy lowers himself, slow on trembling thighs, and makes a truly mortifying noise into Matt's mouth when he finally pushes inside. 

His cock is blunt and thick, searingly hot as it fills him.

It is also twitching, pulsing in an intimately familiar way as Matt shakes against him, keening into the kiss, and comes wet and hot, fucking up into him in short, fierce thrusts. 

Foggy, bravely, does not laugh until Matt breaks the kiss, pressing his forehead into Foggy's shoulder and groaning in despair.

"Oh, man," Foggy breathes between snickers, petting his hands down Matt's sides. 

"Shut  _ up," _ Matt urges plaintively, and lets go of him to flop back against the mattress. His face is flushed and his hair is tangled and sweaty, arms splayed dejectedly at his sides.

"I love you," Foggy tells him, unable to keep from smiling.

Matt gives his hips a half-hearted flick, and Foggy grunts out a shocked laugh, falling forward to catch himself against Matt's chest. Foggy just hums happily and settles down against him, letting Matt wallow as they catch their breath. 

Eventually, Matt's hands smooth down his sides, making their way to where Matt is still mostly hard and snugged up inside him. Fingers play delicately around Foggy's stretched hole, making him squirm. 

"Hey," Matt says.

Grinning, Foggy tucks his chin over Matt's shoulder. "Hm?"

"Sorry."

Foggy hums thoughtfully, and then turns his head to kiss Matt's cheek. "Make it up to me."

Matt turns his head, catching Foggy's lips in a kiss. "Mm... 'kay."

Foggy is tipped over unceremoniously onto his side, groaning when Matt slips out of him. He groans some more when Matt spreads him out across the bed and trails bites and kisses across his chest. He pays special attention to the scar on Foggy's left shoulder, dropping damp little kisses all the way around it before moving on. 

He drags his fingertips down the length of Foggy's arm, tangling their fingers together, and uses his grip to stretch Foggy's arm out, before ducking down to nose at the hair under his arm. 

Foggy's eyes, which had shut on account of him being lulled into a haze of contentment, snap open, and he stares at the ceiling in distress. 

"Oh no," he says, voice flat with panic. He can feel Matt's smile, and then Matt's tongue, against his skin. 

"If you turn me into an armpit guy, Murdock, I swear to God-"

"What," Matt challenges, nipping at a sensitive ridge of muscle. 

Shivering slightly, Foggy flexes into the touch. "I'll sue."

Matt snorts, directly into Foggy's armpit, and then bites a kiss into the hairy skin there. It feels amazing. Foggy lets out a whimper of despair.

Matt takes pity on him, and changes direction, licking and sucking across Foggy's nipples and then down, over the swell of his stomach. He leaves the skin shiny and pink, tender with the memory of teeth and stubble.

"Oh god," Foggy breathes, gripping the covers as Matt works lower.

The first touch of Matt's lips to Foggy's cock is a revelation. 

Foggy pushes himself up to his elbows to watch as Matt takes him in hand, licking and slurping at the head of his dick, tonguing his slit.

"Fuck," Foggy pants, clutching at the covers. "Matt-"

Matt hums, giving one last flick of his tongue, and then moves on, moves down. He nuzzles at Foggy's balls, slips one into his mouth, dragging a whine out of Foggy. Matt hollows his cheeks and lets it go with  _ pop _ that has Foggy groaning and dropping back flat to the mattress.

Matt grips Foggy's thighs, pushing them up and apart, and then licks.

Foggy yelps and jumps, and Matt grips him tighter, shoves his thighs up farther, and flattens his tongue against Foggy's ass, pushing a satisfied hum into sensitive skin.

"Matty, Matty, c'mon, please," Foggy babbles, hot and embarrassed and so turned on he can't think straight.

"Push it out for me," Matt whispers, sucking kisses around Foggy's hole and kneading at his thighs. He presses his nose into Foggy's skin. "You smell like me, Fogs, you smell like-" he cuts himself off, and Foggy cries out, arching, as Matt pushes his tongue into him.

_ "Jesus," _ Foggy sobs, wet hot pleasure sinking through him, sharp as Matt's teeth where they're bared against his asshole. He squirms and bucks, groaning when Matt's hands try to hold him down. They struggle for a few frantic beats, Foggy unsure whether he's trying to get closer or farther away. Matt ends it abruptly when he pulls back and gets his hands on Foggy's hips, twisting him urgently.

"Over, damn it, roll over," Matt tells him, fingers shaking, voice deep and dark with something that makes Foggy shiver. He rolls over. 

Matt shoves him up to his knees and licks a broad stripe up his crack, resting his cheek on Foggy's ass and asking in a gravelly voice, "Can I?"

"Anything," Foggy tells him, fisting his hands in a pillow and spreading his thighs.

"Everything," Matt sighs, voice dark and dreamy, and he kneads at Foggy's ass, using his grip to spread Foggy open. 

"You're such a dweeb," Foggy laments, voice muffled in the pillow.

Matt brushes his thumbs against Foggy's hole and pushes his tongue in, moaning loudly as he does. The vibrations sink into Foggy, buzzing through him and making him shiver. Dropping his chest, he pushes his ass up higher and hides his grunts with the pillow. 

He feels slutty and sweaty and overwhelmed. Matt rubs his prickly stubble against Foggy's ass and whines when Foggy twitches against him. Foggy pushes, clenches, shudders at the feel of Matt's come dripping out of him, of Matt lapping it up hungrily.

_ "Please," _ Foggy begs, asking for he doesn't know what, face hot where it's buried in the pillow.

Matt lets out a growl and climbs him, scrabbles up and drapes himself across Foggy's back, heavy and hot. His dick presses insistently into Foggy's crack, rubbing and fucking against him. 

"Yeah," Foggy breathes, rocking back, "Yeah yeah yeah, please.  _ Please." _

Drawing back, Matt lets out a stuttering groan, wipes the slick head of his dick against Foggy's hole, and pushes in. Sighing and falling forward, he drapes himself across Foggy again and ruts into him, stiff and hot and perfect. 

Foggy can't help the noises that spill out of him, that Matt fucks out of him, desperate cries that choke off when Matt draws back.

"Sh- _ shit!" _ Foggy groans out, as Matt slams in hard enough to flatten them to the bed. "Wait, Matty, stop, stop, I need-"

Pulling out of him with a distressed sound, Matt feels at him, pats hands over his back and his hips, flexing with a sudden surge of strength and flipping Foggy over. He pets his hands up Foggy's chest to his neck, to his face. "What, what is it? What do you need?"

"Kiss me," Foggy exhales, relaxing against the bed. Pushing his fingers through Matt's sweaty hair, he grips it loosely and pulls him in. "Just kiss me. I needed-" Matt kisses him quick and hard and sweet, fingers splayed across his jaw "I just needed to see you."

"Yeah?" Matt asks, smiling at him, breathing hard.

"Get back inside me you handsome devil," Foggy tells him, tugging again at his hair.

Matt's grin gets even wider, and he grabs the lube from the crumpled covers without having to feel around for it. "You think I'm handsome," he says, smug, like he's tricked Foggy into admitting something.

"Oh man," Foggy rolls his eyes and arches his back as Matt pushes lube into him. "I literally called you handsome the first time we met."

If Foggy hadn't been watching, he might not have noticed Matt's cheeks getting just a little bit redder. But he is, and he does.

"Come on, gorgeous," he urges Matt, his voice going soft and fond. "Fuck me."

Matt licks his lower lip, hooks his fingers as he pulls them out, and then shuffles up, butting his thighs up under Foggy's and rubbing the head of his cock against Foggy's hole.

He cocks his head, eyes open and sweeping in jittering arcs, and Foggy watches the sweet way his face crumples as he pushes in. He's blunt and hot, and the way his breath sucks in through his teeth and the tremble in his arms where he's holding himself up make Foggy ache.

"So fucking gorgeous," Foggy whispers, hitching his thighs up further and groaning when Matt pushes all the way in.

_ "Foggy," _ Matt says, quiet and shaking, and it sounds like a plea.

"Yeah, fuck, yeah." Swallowing, Foggy reaches down to tug at his cock, knuckles bumping into Matt's abs. "Me too, buddy."

It's so much more, feeling this while looking at Matt's face, seeing what it's doing to him.

Matt leans back, sitting up on his knees, and hitches Foggy's thighs up farther over his. His cock rubs inside Foggy, presses tight and hot inside him against places that make Foggy tremble.

Fingers loose and shaky around his aching cock, Foggy swallows dryly, throat clicking, and pushes his head back into the pillow. 

Matt is perfect inside him, thick and hard, fucking sharply into him. His hips slap hard and strong against Foggy's ass, the hollow, clapping sound of sweaty skin hitting sweaty skin washing over them. Matt's little grunts of effort, rough exhales with every snap of his hips, make something hot shiver down Foggy's spine. 

"Matty," Foggy whines, his voice thin and faltering, fingers tightening around the head of his dick.

Matt looks as wrecked as Foggy feels, mouth open and eyebrows drawn together. His fingers dig into Foggy's thighs when Foggy says his name, and then one hand sweeps up, scrubbing over his sweaty chest and up to his face as the other keeps a grip on his thigh, tugging him back into his thrusts.

Matt's fingers stroke over Foggy's face, mapping his expression, and his grunts get louder, rougher, his thrusts more erratic. 

Heat pools in him, liquid and insistent. Foggy's whole body goes tight, back arching, as he fists his leaking cock.

"Do it," Matt pants, shifting forward to bite kisses into Foggy's chest, his neck, stomach rubbing over Foggy's hand where he's stripping his cock, movements frantic and sloppy. His teeth and his tongue press into the skin at the base of Foggy's throat, and he groans when Foggy twitches and trembles and clenches. "I can feel you, I can-  _ fuck!" _

Head thrown back, hand working furiously over his aching cock, Foggy shuts his eyes and shakes apart.

He paints his own stomach and chest, again and again, rough sobs drawn out of him at the same time. He's still rocking down onto Matt's cock, dragging out the sensation, when Matt groans and pulls out of him, making him gasp and clutch at his shoulders. 

Matt ducks down, lips hot against Foggy's skin, and Foggy jerks in surprise, eyes snapping open when Matt comes the second he starts licking up the mess on Foggy's chest.

Foggy watches, sex-dumb and woozy, as Matt jerks, untouched, and spills over Foggy's balls, over his still-twitching cock, and his belly. Matt grunts, hips rocking, shuddering in the air as he mouths at the cum on Foggy's chest. He drags his lips through it, smearing it and biting at it, sending shivering sparks across Foggy's tender skin.

Foggy gives a broken groan at the sight. He brings his hands up to settle in Matt's hair, arching up into his mouth. Matt just keeps moving lower, making even more of a mess. He grabs at Foggy, pushes his fingers through his own release, smears it over Foggy's oversensitive cock and the tops of his thighs, marking him with it. 

"Oh," Foggy murmurs eloquently, throat raw and voice rough, twitching his hips up, thighs spreading in lazy anticipation. 

Matt moans and tilts his head up towards Foggy. His lips are red and shiny, wet with spit and cum, and he surges up, one hand cupping Foggy's face as he unerringly finds Foggy's mouth for a kiss. 

Foggy lets his lips part, lets Matt kiss the taste of his own release into his mouth, deep and filthy, the hand on his jaw sliding up. Fingers push into his hair and tangle there, anchoring his head, and Matt licks at his teeth, behind them. He whines into Foggy's mouth, his other hand gripping his softening cock, dragging it through the mess on Foggy's balls before pushing it up behind them, shoving restlessly. 

Breath hitching, Foggy tilts his hips up, spreading wide, and does his best to open up for Matt, who pushes into him with the head of his spent cock. Knuckles rub against Foggy's hole, and Matt shivers, keening into Foggy's mouth, as he jerks and shudders.

"Fuck," Foggy sighs, petting shaky hands through Matt's hair, down over his flexing shoulders as Matt breaks the kiss, hunches close and buried his face in Foggy's neck. 

"Uhng," Matt says, and burrows closer. He lets go of his softening dick, wriggling his arm under Foggy's lower back to pull them tightly together, heedless of the sticky mess between them. 

Foggy's ass, tender and raw, twitches and clenches, and Matt slips out of him. Matt groans in protest but lets it happen, mouth open against Foggy's neck. He tongues absently at the mark he'd left there earlier. Foggy takes a deep breath and wraps his tired, quivering legs around Matt's waist.

"Well," Foggy says eventually, blinking sleepily at the ceiling. 

Matt hums and presses a kiss into the soft skin under Foggy's jaw. 

"You know, for some reason, I didn't think you'd be into any of the fun gross parts of sex, on account of your super sniffer and whatnot."

"I'm into  _ you," _ Matt explains, squeezing him briefly around the middle. "You're not gross."

Foggy snorts. "I think you'll find, in general maybe, but particularly right now, that I am actually extremely gross."

"Nah," Matt dismisses, snuggling even closer and smacking his lips. 

Foggy narrows his eyes at this behavior, which he finds suspiciously slumber-adjacent. "Um, I hope you realize we're showering before we sleep."

Matt lifts his head, an adorably genuine look of distress on his face. 

"We are glued together with spit and jizz right now," Foggy points out helpfully. 

Matt raises his eyebrows and turns his face, chin jutting out stubbornly, an extremely sassy  _ 'so?' _ implied in the movement. 

"Matt,  _ I _ can't stand this; how can you stand this?"

Matt groans and drops his head, thumping his forehead into Foggy's collarbone. "You finally smell perfect," he says dejectedly, speaking directly to Foggy's jizz-covered stomach. It's worryingly charming. Foggy is screwed. 

"Can we like- Okay, side bar, I always smell good, just fyi -but can't we like, clean up a little without washing everything off? Can we get rid of the crust at least? You'll still be able to smell it, right?"

Matt sighs gustily, but turns his head until his cheek is resting above Foggy's heart. "I guess."

"There he is, my dumb yet occasionally reasonable best- wait."

"Hm?"

"Are you my boyfriend now? Are we boyfriends?" Foggy asks.

"Partners," Matt says definitively, without any hesitation.

Foggy bites his lips between his teeth and knows his heart and breathing are speeding up.

Matt grunts and pats a hand up to Foggy's face, tracing a fingertip along his dimple. Foggy can feel Matt smile, mouth curling up against his chest.

Foggy wraps his arms around Matt's shoulders, settling in for a few more minutes of cuddling, "I can work with that."

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> (My apologies to those among us who are into feet and or armpits. I meant no offense. T'was not my intention to yuck anybody's yum.)


End file.
